Without that positive outlook that her proverbial rose colored glasses gave her, she doesn’t know how to deal with the difficulties that life holds in store for her.  It’s not that the glasses blacked out things, so that she doesn’t have to admit that they are there; blinding her to reality.  That’s not it at all.  The glasses simply allowed her to see a bright side to any given situation, no matter how dismal.  By emphasizing all of the good, the bad didn’t seem quite so bad any more; things became manageable, easier to deal with.  Without them, she can’t sugarcoat life and it just seems way too painful to cope with.   If they helped her to handle the rough spots in life, were they really that bad?   Wearing her rose colored glasses was surely better than viewing the stark naked cruelness that was so profound that she couldn’t get around it; the cold, harsh reality that she just couldn’t deal with, or at least chose not to.  Surely it had to be better than sitting there with this cold, blue steel clenched between her teeth, her finger posed on the trigger, waiting to discover which she finds to be worse; the harshness of the realities that lay before her, with no intentions of going away, or the uncertainty of the unknown void that comes with the gunshot that she’ll never hear.